


Knock Me a Kiss

by Loki_said_kneel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Concert, Jazz - Freeform, M/M, One Night Stands, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Singer!Bucky, Smut, Song Inspired, Wartime, i guess, who wouldn't set a club on fire for steve's smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 11:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17549228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_said_kneel/pseuds/Loki_said_kneel
Summary: Steve decides to go to a concert where he meets  gorgeous singer called Bucky who nearly lits the place on fire because of Steve's smile. It is appropriate reaction to Steve's smile, can't really judge him.





	Knock Me a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by that one time when I dressed in full 1940s attire, brushed my hair into perfect victory rolls and my sister in-law sneaked me into a jazz/swing concert through backstage, sat me into the first row and the singer dropped his cigarette when I smiled at him during Knock Me a Kiss. It is till this day my proudest moment. (It did not continue the way it does with Bucky and Steve).
> 
> When I came home, I couldn't sleep and this is the result. Enjoy.

**September 1943, New York**

It was one of those rare September nights when the temperature was just the right kind of warm. Steve fixed his tie, feeling slightly nervous with all the people jostling around him, greeting each other a little too loudly and laughing in a way that made his head hurt a bit. He tried his best to push through the crowd, anxiously apologizing to every person he bumped into in his clumsy attempt of getting into the lounge.

The local music bar was having another one of their famous jazz nights. Steve would usually spend his Friday evenings at home, hovering over his drawing pad with warm socks on his feet and possibly even a blanket over his shoulders, but not tonight. Tonight he went out to…what was it he wanted to do? Maybe it was just the magic of that warm September night. He ran his palm over his blond hair, desperately trying to force it into shape as he found himself a seat not far from stage, but strategically distanced from the dancing floor. There was no way Steve would dance. No, the night wasn’t _that_ magical.

The room slowly filled with people, their chatter still a little too loud for his ears and for a second he doubted his decision of coming here, but it was only until the singer came on stage. He did doubted his own name after landing his eyes on that man, but he no longer questioned his choice of how to spend tonight.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman,” the man greeted the crowd, cheeky smirk plastered on his clean shaved face. He was wearing a nice black tuxedo with thin white stripe, it was clearly fitted for him and God it looked so good on him. He had a dark red tie and his dark brown hair was combed to the side. He looked over the crowd and Steve thought that he had never seen a man more handsome and confident than the singer. “My name is James Buchannan Barnes, but you all are welcomed to call me Bucky.” Steve laughed, he wasn’t really sure why, but he did and the singer shot him a short amused gaze.

“Right, well. Since we got that off the table, let me bring my boys up here. Boys!” he shouted and a stage filled with fifteen men with various music instruments. “We’re going to play a few songs for you. If you know the lyrics, sing with us, if you want to dance, please dance and if you’re not a fan of neither one of these activities, please enjoy our performance!”

The band started playing and Bucky joined them with his singing, holding the metal microphone with one hand while having his other hand in pocket of his trousers. His voice was rich and warm and it made corners of Steve’s lips lift into a pleasant smile.

It was halfway through the performance when the singer reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. Steve hated smoking. It was more than annoying due to his asthma and he wrinkled his nose in annoyance. He blushed a little when the singer laughed, looking at him.

“I was told this song is supposed to be sung while smoking a cigarette. I promise I don’t usually smoke, I see the disgust in your eyes, but this song…this song deserves it.” He chuckled and Steve thought that he might even forgive him the smoking if he’d get to hear his deep hearty laughter some more. He put the cigarette into his mouth and lit it. The band started playing and Bucky breathed out a little bit of smoke, before he started singing _Knock Me a Kiss_ by Louis Jordan, song that became a hit nearly a year ago. Steve recognized the tune and he was once again tempted to forgive the singer for smoking.

_“I like cake_

_And no mistake_

_But baby, if you insist_

_I’ll cut out cake_

_Just for your sake_

_Baby, c’mon and knock me a kiss.”_ Bucky winked in Steve’s direction with a cheeky grin as he sang the last line. The small man blushed, unable to stay calm when the singer looked at him, but he tried to force himself into believing that he is probably mistaken, because there is no way he would be actually looking _at_ Steve. Steve. No. Impossible. Or at least, he tried to tell himself that.

Bucky sang another verse, winking again while singing: “C’mon and knock me a kiss.” Steve couldn’t resist, he smiled back at him, just in case he is really gazing at him and he was no way prepared for what was about to come. Bucky grinned, wide, cheeky and seductive grin, and he forgot about the cigarette in his mouth. It fell out, quickly making its way to the wooden stage and the singer’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening. He quickly crouched down, picking up the cigarette, before it set something on fire.

“Well, that’s just a waste of a good cigarette,” he sighed into the microphone, before extinguishing it against the bottom of his shinny shoes. The crowd laughed, but the manager of the place was shooting him a mad look. Bucky chuckled before he finished the song.

The night went on and everyone seemed to forget about what’s going on in the world right now. For those precious few hours, there was no war, no dying, no poverty and no sadness. Steve stood up and fixed the jacket of his father’s old tuxedo. His mother altered it for him when she still lived, but it was clear that it was not made for him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and he started making his way out slowly.

“That cigarette was truly a stupid idea, Mr. Barnes.” Steve heard the manager scold the singer and he turned his head around instinctively, just in time to see Bucky run past him in Steve’s direction. He thought he was just chasing some pretty lady and he paid it no attention.

“Hey!” he called, grabbing Steve’s shoulder. “Good, I was afraid I wouldn’t find you after the show.” The blonde man frowned, this was surely a mistake. Bucky let go of his shoulder, quickly enough to make it seem like there’s nothing strange going on.

“Yes?” he breathed out, confused.

“Yes.” Bucky chuckled. “Do you want to go out? To get a drink or something?” Steve’s eyebrows knitted together and it took him a little bit to answer, but eventually he did mumble a quiet: “Sure.”

“Great. I need to pack my stuff backstage, can you wait for me in front of the club? I won’t be long,” Bucky assured him and Steve let out another strangled: “Sure.” The singer chuckled, petting Steve’s shoulder before he took off again, running to the back of the club.  Steve shook his head and rubbed his shoulder. Bucky didn’t hit him too much, in fact he barely touched him, but the blonde’s skin was covered with bruises from one of the fights he gotten himself in this week.

The change of temperature turned Steve’s cheeks pink as he left the club and hid his hands in his pockets again. Nearly everyone left by now and he felt silly standing there by himself. He looked like a child waiting to be picked up by his parents, except that Steve had no parents, no siblings and his family had never owned a car in his life. This wasn’t about to change anytime soon considering the war was raging on over the pond and it reflected poorly on the life of regular American families. It was nearly two years since the U.S. government announced they were joining the war.

Steven Rogers was strangely keen to be a part of it. His small lithe frame was alarming to the doctors on its own and combined with his medical history and his asthma, the young man was sent home without a question. On several occasions. The doctors were sure they were doing the ill lad a favour, but in fact it made him feel even more miserable.

It was strange to see someone like James wandering around New York clubs in times like this. He was tall, strong and fit in every manner and yet, he hadn’t flew to Europe yet. It made Steve wonder why. Was it some hidden illness? Was he a coward? Or was he just too sane to volunteer to die?

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Christ, it’s a bit colder then when we came here, isn’t it?” Bucky ran out of the building in long trench coat. It was open, revealing the same suit he performed in.

“Yeah, the air is a bit crispier, I guess,” Steve agreed and Bucky smiled at him.

“So where to? I don’t really know much of this part of the town. Is there a nice bar or a bistro?” The taller man asked, mirroring Steve by hiding his hands in the pockets of his coat as well.

“Um, I am not sure. I don’t really go out all that much,” the blonde admitted.

“I seeee,” Bucky prolonged the word, the cheeky smile never disappearing from his lips. “I should feel honoured you came out of your hiding place for me then.” This made Steve chuckle and shake his head.

“I just like good music, that’s all.” He shrugged.

“Hmm…ok, what’s your name?” Bucky wanted to know.

“Steve.” The singer offered his hand to the other man who shook it shortly.

“I am Bucky,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve smiled and fixed his head instinctively.

“Oh don’t worry, it looks good,” Bucky assured him.

“What?” Steve looked up at him.

“Your hair. It looks good, you don’t have to fix it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, hey, listen, Stevie. Since we don’t know what to do around here, why don’t we go to my place? It’s nothing fancy, but it’s quiet and I have a good bottle of whiskey hidden behind oats, so if it’s ok with you, we can go there. I am going to give you a ride home when you want to leave.” The blonde studied his face for a bit, searching for something, unaware of what exactly.

He let out another dreamy: “Sure.” 

James had a lovely dark blue Ford that he bought just before the war started for the USA, he blew an awful amount of money for that piece of metal, but he had a lot of hopes for the future and a lot of plans as well. Still, it was probably a waste of money to buy a car in New York. Steve stared at the vehicle for a bit. He wasn’t exactly a car enthusiast, but he could appreciate a nice car when he saw one and God was this a gorgeous car. Quite fitting for its owner.

“Well, get in, or do you want me to open the door for you?” Bucky laughed loudly after he opened the door of the driver’s side. Steve blushed, but the cold and poor street lights covered the fact almost entirely. He didn’t wait for anyone and he get into the car, feeling quite small in it.

“Did you like the show?” Bucky asked as he started the engine.

“It was great. Really great,” Steve said honestly.

“Good. I’ve enjoyed it as well. Except for the fact you nearly made me light the place on fire.” Steve’s eyes widened and his head shot in Bucky’s direction. The taller man allowed himself a courtesy of one quick glance at Steve and he smirked.

“Don’t look so innocent, I am sure you know what you do with that smile of yours. The manager was furious, they have to watch over the place apparently. He says it could still start burning because of the ash falling between the planks or whatever,” Bucky murmured. “I think he’s exaggerating. So what do you do, Steve?” Steve was confused by the man. Bucky made small talk while sneaking in what might had been Steve’s biggest compliment of his life.

“Whatever I can, I help with accounting at this small company and you know, something else here and there, just trying to make it through, I guess.” Bucky nodded his head. 

“Got it. You’re a smart one then, mhm? If you know math.”

“I am decent. It’s easy. I wanted to study art, but you know, it’s not exactly something to make living of.”

“No, but if you love it, you should do it.” Steve smiled. It should have sounded naïve, but it somehow made sense when Bucky said it. He was an artist himself and somehow he owned this beautiful Ford.

“Yes,” the small man murmured.

“You could try your luck in Paris – once the war is over, I’ve heard it’s a good place for an artist,” Bucky thought out loud.

“Maybe one day. Have you ever been there? In Paris?” he asked.

“No.” The smile disappeared from his lips for a split of second. “Maybe I’ll get to see it soon.” Steve frowned, but said nothing as they drove through the city. The effect of war wasn’t all that prominent yet and in the same time it was everywhere. It was in faces of the people, it was in missing items in the stores and it was in every desperate attempt to feel better, even if just for one night. Was that what Steve was doing? Maybe.

Bucky parked in front of a house build from brown stone and they got out of the car and made their way up the short staircase. They were silent, neither one of them sure why as they ascended to the second floor where Bucky lived.

The place was a strange combination of clean and dirty which made it look homely. It smelled like coffee beans and bacon. Both items were considered nearly a luxury and Steve wondered whether it was something James would get all the time or if he was celebrating something.

“It’s not fancy, as I said.” Bucky shrugged off his coat.

“It’s great,” Steve replied genuinely. He really though it was great, considering the dump he lived in.

“Thanks. Do you want some of that whiskey or something else maybe?” Bucky asked walking into the kitchen.

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” The singer nodded his head and poured them two glasses of whiskey. They rose their glasses and clicked them together.

“To living,” Bucky toasted

“To living,” Steve repeated, taking a small sip of the golden drink.

They sat down in the living room, talking about New York, singing, Louis Jordan and art. There was a silent agreement between the two of them that they would talk about anything but the war and the world around them. It was a pleasant lie in rather unpleasant reality. Inevitably the two of them reached the theme of dating. Steve was shocked, to say the least, by the fact that Bucky claimed to be single.

“There has to be some dame…,” Steve let his voice fade into the glass of whiskey as he went to have another sip of the drink.

“It’s hard to find someone to fit my taste,” Bucky answered mysteriously and the blonde noticed the way the other man watched his lips. “Do you find it hard too, Steve?”

“I-I umh,” the man suddenly found himself loss of words. He placed the glass on a table in front of him and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Or do you just hide in front of the world?” This question was even harder to answer and Steve felt lost, he didn’t answer, the flat was filled with silence as the taller man leaned forward and then suddenly Steve no longer felt lost as Bucky’s lips touched his in the lightest possible way. They barely brushed against each other and yet the experience shattered and rebuild Steve’s world. A single kiss was all it took for everything to change. Bucky drew back to see the other man’s reaction or accept a possible punch in the face, but Steve didn’t look repelled by the motion, in fact it was the very opposite.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asked and Steve smirked.

“It’s a little too late to ask, isn’t it?”

“Right,” Bucky snorted. “I guess I am just going to do it then.” He placed his hand on Steve’s skinny waist, squeezing it just hard enough to let him know, he’s touching him, but not too hard for the smaller man to feel like he can’t escape the grip. It took the blonde a little time to warm up to what was happening, but Bucky’s lips were like velvet and his tongue was unusually warm from the alcohol and it tasted like whiskey. He dared to tangle his fingers into the dark hair of the man sitting next to him. Bucky pulled closer, nearly seating Steve on his lap, but Steve didn’t mind. He pressed his bony body to Bucky’s, all his sharp edges contrasting with Bucky’s rounded muscles. A complete opposites, yet fitting together in such beautiful way.

“I wasn’t lying in the car, Steve,” Bucky reminded between the soft kisses. “Your smile was all it took for me to nearly start a fire.” The blonde looked puzzled. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention and it made him feel strange, but also good and warm, but it might have been the whiskey. He climbed on Bucky’s lap, straddling him and shuffling slightly to find a comfortable position.

“Do you do this often? Find someone in a club and take them home in your nice car? Whispering sweet lies into their ears before they climb into your bed?” Steve asked, his fingers still playing with those gorgeous raven hair. Bucky sniggered.

“Of course not, doll.” He kissed Steve’s lips slightly before whispering: “But how much do I have to say to get you climbing into my bed?”

“A little more.”

“You really do have a beautiful smile and nice eyes and I like the scars on your knuckles, because they mean you’re a fighter. I like the way you keep fixing your hair, even though it looks fine. I am astonished by the fact of how familiar you seem to me, even though I’ve never seen you before in my life and yet I would swear that this is where you’ve always supposed to be – blushing in my apartment in the middle of the night, your lips tasting like whiskey and your eyes filled with lust.”

“Do you prepare these monologs?” Steve chuckled.

“No. You made me speak like this,” Bucky confessed to his own surprise.

“Hmm,” the blonde hummed. “Show me your bedroom then.”

“Are you sure?” the singer asked.

“Quite sure.”

* * *

 

Steve woke up in the morning when some car honked in front of the house. He was confused at first. He felt a source of heat behind him and it took him a second to realize that his back is pressed to someone’s chest. Someone’s very naked chest. He was naked as well.

“Christ,” he murmured, sighing out. He wiggled, trying to escape Bucky’s embrace, but it woke up the other man.

“What are you doing?” Bucky enquired.

“Trying to disappear before we get into trouble.”

“Oh, we’re already in trouble, Steve.” The singer rolled on his back, a corner of his lips lifting in dark amusement. “You see, I just had the best night of my life and this bloody war is about to take it away from me.” He looked at the smaller man, who watched him carefully. “I am about to see Paris, Stevie. Very soon. I got drawn out. I am leaving in two weeks. Last night was my last concert. Don’t look at me like that, there’s no point, come on and knock me a kiss.” 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone feels like turning this into a podfic, go on! ♥


End file.
